


And the world must turn

by judgehangman



Category: Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judgehangman/pseuds/judgehangman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night before the solstice, Dantalion kissed Solomon in the dying light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the world must turn

**Author's Note:**

> There's one single mention of ritualistic self injury (as in, using your own blood for ritual purposes), but that's it.

On the morning before the solstice, Dantalion made two cups of tea like he always did. He handed Solomon the warmest one, and grumbled at the kiss pressed to his forehead, and listened quietly as Solomon read poetry to the singing birds. The tea was enough to ward off the cold, but he still curled up against Solomon’s side and talked to him about the past, like they always did when the morning was too cold.

They watched as the birds danced around the stone steps, jumping over the freshly-painted sigils. Dantalion hoped the rain would take longer to hit, as he didn’t want to risk the paint being washed off. Solomon asked if he’d made the paint from charcoal procured from burnt bones as he had instructed. Dantalion nodded — he wouldn’t do anything differently.

* * *

At noon, Solomon refused to eat, and locked himself in the library with a jar of honey. Despite the rain, Dantalion picked lavenders from the royal garden and made him tea, leaving the buds and leaves to dry on an earth oven. He took the tea and some warm milk to the library, and smiled at the way Solomon’s face lit up at the smell of lavender.

Solomon drank his tea in silence and watched the city from the window as Dantalion prepared the altar. Seven candles and seventy-seven, anointed with holy oil, surrounding the altar at a circular formation. Seventy-two engraved with the seventy-two names of God, ten engraved with the names of the ten sephirot, two blank. Dantalion didn’t know why they were so, but Solomon had instructed him to be precise in their arrangement.

* * *

In the afternoon, they sat together and filled rolls of papyri with words copied from wax diptychs. The ink stained their fingers and the words seemed to bleed into each other, but they continued until there was nothing to transcribe anymore.

“Which ones will we be burning?” Dantalion erased the diptychs with a single gesture, letting the flames melt the wax clean. “The smaller ones?”

Solomon nodded, and measured the arrangement of the candles with a satisfied expression. “The Enochian should be written on the walls before the lighting of the candles. You should use animal blood for that, but not from cattle. Don’t forget the oil.”

“I won’t.” He floated up and pressed his index finger to the sigil painted on the ceiling. The paint was still wet. “Are the candles to be lit at once?”

“No, you should use one of the blank candles for that. The seventy-two candles are for each one of you, my pillars. Light them first and seal each of the brass vessels with its respective candle, then move to the inner ones.” He circled around the altar, stopping at the seventy-second candle. “Start from Malkhut, then go all the way to Keter. Ten lines in the incantation, ten sephirot. You should read the line before lighting the candle. Hebrew, then Enochian. I wrote down how the Enochian should be pronounced, if you need help.”

Dantalion huffed. “Thanks.”

“After that, you’ll leave the blank candle on one end of the altar.” Solomon tapped the stone. “Walk around it, and light the last candle on the other end. You’ll anoint this candle, put a few drops of blood into the bowl, then use it to burn the herbs. When you’re done with that…”

They exchanged a look. Dantalion’s breath hitched.

“I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

In the evening, Solomon announced he was hungry, so Dantalion made them lamb and stew seasoned with herbs, which they ate accompanied by bread and wine. Solomon couldn’t bring himself to ask what the special occasion was, and they feasted in silence under the flickering of an oil lamp.

* * *

On the night before the solstice, Dantalion kissed Solomon in the dying light.

“I love you,” he whispered and held Solomon tight, like he was afraid. And Solomon took his hand, took him to the bedroom, and Dantalion whispered “I love you” again with every touch.

And Solomon cried out all his apologies, gently bit them into Dantalion’s skin, praying with every mark he left that they would find each other again.

* * *

At midnight, Dantalion pulled his legs towards his chest and cried with his face hidden on his knees as Solomon slept.

* * *

On the morning of the solstice, Dantalion made two cups of tea like he always did. He handed Solomon the warmest one and threw out the other, and sighed at the kiss pressed to his lips. The birds didn’t come to the tower, so he listened as Solomon read poetry to the blowing wind. He shivered as he curled up against Solomon’s side, shivered as Solomon’s fingers trailed down his back, shivered as Solomon kissed him like the world was ending. The wind caressing their faces was gelid, and the cold led them back to the bedroom, clinging to each other in search of warmth.

And if Solomon embraced him like he was scared of letting go, and whispered “I love you” with his lips pressed to Dantalion’s skin, and undressed him slowly the way he wished he’d done so long ago, it was only the cold that made their hands tremble.

* * *

At noon, Solomon poured anointing oil over the dried lavender as Dantalion made them tea. The smell of wormwood filled the room and he let the oil steep in the earth oven, the flame underneath it burning slow and steady. He sipped the tea with a hum of appreciation, and laughed at the face Dantalion made at its bitter taste.

“Why did you make wormwood tea if you don’t like it?”

“I don’t know.” Dantalion shrugged. “It seemed appropriate.”

Solomon didn’t have to ask what he meant by that.

* * *

In the afternoon, Solomon watched the rain pour from the window as Dantalion drew Enochian words onto the stone walls. The metallic smell of blood lingered in the air and made Solomon feel sick, but he remained quiet as Dantalion worked.

“Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened had you never met her.”

Solomon turned to look at him, curious. “Who?”

“ _Her._ The pharaoh’s daughter, you’ve never given me a name.”

Solomon sighed. “Don’t start. It’s not her fault that I—”

“Is it not?” Dantalion laughed, bitterly. “That’s not what the people think.”

“You know better than the people.” He rested his head against the wall. “Are you jealous, Dantalion?”

Dantalion didn’t reply. Solomon’s expression softened.

“Sometimes I wish I understood.”

Dantalion looked at him. “What?”

“Why you stay by my side. Why you do everything I ask you, even when it hurts. Why I can’t stop hurting you, no matter how I try.”

Dantalion looked away, fixed his eyes on the Enochian letters. He couldn’t understand their meaning, but trusted Solomon knew what he was doing. The lines seemed to muddle together as he stared until all he could see was meaningless shapes drawn in blood.

“I told you why.”

"I know." Solomon hummed. “I wonder who you’d be, had you never met me.”

“Sometimes I wonder that as well.”

* * *

In the evening, as soon as the sun set, Dantalion lit the candles surrounding the altar one-by-one as instructed. He announced the incantation in a language he did not speak and anointed the last candle with steady hands, and counted down the minutes with his heart pounding in his chest.

* * *

On the night of the solstice, Solomon laid down on the altar and did not wake up.

* * *

At midnight, fire surrounded Jerusalem, and the flames told Rehoboam of his father’s death, but Dantalion could not bring himself to destroy Solomon’s birthplace.

* * *

On the morning after the solstice, Dantalion made two cups of tea like he always did. They remained untouched.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Diptych:** any object with two flat plates attached at a hinge. Here, it specifically refers to two wax tablets.
> 
> **Sephirot:** the 10 attributes/emanations in Kabbalah through which God reveals Himself and continuously creates the physical and metaphysical realms. Malkhut, meaning kingdom, is the tenth sephirot and sits at the bottom of the Tree of Life, emanating from God's creation. Keter, meaning crown, is the first and topmost sephirot, said to be so sublime it is incomprehensible to mankind.
> 
> **Rehoboam** : Solomon's son who ruled (and fucked over) Israel after Solomon's death.


End file.
